Getting away from the topic of problematic men, I’ve decided to post more on some of the good and the sexy here in Israel. I hope nobody gets the idea from reading this blog, that this is a country berift of stunning examples of manhood. In fact, per square meter, I’d say it’s comparable to my hometown, which is one reason I love being in Haifa.
Also, much like my hometown, there is a full spectrum of shades to choose from: asphalt noir to blinding blanc. I should also clarify that the reason Moroccan guys are such reflexively self fucking dumbasses is because they are among the most handsome until they hit the wall at 30. Like women, they are pretty until they start to age, so also like many women, they are cruel and stupid until they get some life experience under their belts. By then though, their looks are gone. Most Moroccan guys, sadly, start to prune-ify and grow massive pelts of hair everywhere except their heads by 27-35.
They swear to God though, that they are doing you a favor by speaking to you. To be fair, in some cases, they are. Much like Black guys in the U.S. they’re weaned on game. So just because a Moroccan guy looks like a hairy troll by 30 doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a fan club. If all you want out of it is sex, then you’ve come to the right place. As manwhores go, they rival Romanians. Just don’t get attached.
If you, like me, have a tendency to get attached though, I recommend nondescript mixed Sabras (born Israelis) with Ashkenazi fathers, the Polish, and the Russian.
…and with that, I’d like to share my thoughts on someone I encountered Saturday night, and make a few points.
Hypatia and I had just finished watching a show and dancing at the Polah, a pub downtown. We were about to wait at the bus stop when a couple passed us. The guy radiated strength and yet a strange refinement, even though he was wearing flip flops, some loose sweatpants, and a plain white t-shirt. The girl, medium height, slim but not emaciated, with long dark brown hair, was actually dressed for casual going out.
It was obvious that this was a post coital situation. He was walking her from his place to the bus stop. What was striking about his appearance, aside of the masculine but well bred poise, was the eye patch. He did not do as most would here, and wear a medical patch, glasses, a glass eye, or something that looked like hospital gear. We’re talking satin black pirate patch with the slim strap at a classy angle. One could tell he looked in a mirror and smiled.
He also had a slight limp, barely noticable with the rest of his poise, and lots and lots of scars. I commented to Hypatia, “Damn, 50 Cent just passed us.” We all had a nice conversation in which I found out that he was injured in a car accident, and that he’s actually old enough to remember pirates vs. ninjas…and of course prefers pirates.
I noticed that he sat while his girlfriend stood. There wasn’t a whole lot of hand holding or other PDA. He didn’t even kiss her before she left, just ordered calmly, “Call me when you get home to let me know you got there safely.” Her mouth said the word, “Okay,” but the tone made it sound more like, “Yes Sir.”
As a favor to him, once Hypatia, I, and the girlfriend got on the bus, I made sure to continue the conversation Hypatia and I started earlier about femininity. She was within earshot of my nutshell version of what went wrong and how a woman can fix being a bitch. She was listening interestedly, but trying not to be too obvious.
Meeting a hot guy who is so in the ways that matter is a pleasure in and of itself. I was happy that he laughed at my humor, and happy to drop a little knowledge on the girl that might one day save her place with him, if he’s looking for something long term.
This guy is an example of what’s right about real Israeli men. As they say, here, if an Israeli guy is a pussy, he’s among the biggest pussies in the world, but if an Israeli guy is a man, then he’s one of the best of men in the world.